


No Shirt, No Shoes. Full Service.

by lambchop33



Series: Master Plan [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bucky likes to give orders, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Consensual Sex, Explicit Language, Fluff and Smut, It's all smut, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shrunkyclunks, Soldier Porn, Steve likes to take them, candlelight sex, just pretend there are condoms, not safe sex, seriously there's still no plot, steve has a crush on bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambchop33/pseuds/lambchop33
Summary: Sequel to Master Plan. Still no plot whatsoever. This is all fluff and smut and soldiers getting it on with each other. My favorite!





	No Shirt, No Shoes. Full Service.

**Author's Note:**

> Master Plan was initially just a one-shot, but I do love soldier porn, so there you go. Not completely necessary to read in order, but probably helpful. :-) As always, thank you for reading!

No Shirt, No Shoes. Full Service.

Steve never actually thought it would work. Hitting on Bucky, that is. He’d been watching him for weeks, ever since he caught sight of him at their first training exercise, really. His initial reaction was all physical in nature, though. That muscled, hard body, with those killer thighs, and then the _face_. Dear Lord, how could his response be anything but infatuation? It was all he could do not to start salivating whenever Bucky sat in on the meetings, looking at Steve with those perfect, stormy blue eyes and those razor-sharp cheekbones.

But physical attraction aside, once Steve got to see him in his element, then he was really done for. He supposed it sounded dumb, but nothing turned him on more than a highly skilled man. Nothing revved his engine quite like watching Bucky perform so superbly at his sniper position. That kind of concentration and dedication, well, he found it very arousing, to say the least. It didn’t hurt that Bucky frequently was lying on his stomach during training exercises, with that fine ass completely on display, either. 

The night at the bar? He’d half expected Bucky to tell him to go fuck himself. But after weeks of useless pining, he had to at least try. Soon as he saw Bucky sitting at the bar and blood had rushed south, he figured, _screw it_ , then plucked up his courage and went for it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Worked out about a thousand times better than he’d hoped, too. Not only did they have terrific sex, but he realized he didn’t _just_ want sex, and that (even better) Bucky felt the same way. 

After their first night together, they’d made plans to see each other again the next night. No time like the present, right? Steve had kind of been hoping to keep it under the radar from the other Avengers at first, at least the part about him and Bucky getting horizontal already, just so they could have some time to figure things out, but you didn’t always get what you wanted, did you?

It was Tony’s fault. 

Actually Jarvis, but Tony created Jarvis, so yeah, Tony’s fault. Steve had been getting into the elevator the next morning when it happened. Bucky had left at about two A.M. after their second round of amazing sex, and Steve slept in till an astonishing eight in the morning. Clint, Nat, and Sam were already in the elevator, heading to breakfast when Steve stepped in and joined them. 

Clint whapped him on the shoulder. “Well look who slept in today! We’re thinking of poker tonight. You in?”

“Umm…” Steve stalled, trying to think of an excuse and failing. “I’m busy.” It was lame and would never fly, and he knew that as soon as it came out of his mouth, but it didn’t stop him.

“Busy with what?” Sam asked, his eyes narrowing. “Two days ago you had no plans this weekend.”

“Steve never has plans for any weekend,” Natasha needled. “What gives?”

All three of them were looking at him expectantly, and he didn’t really want to lie, he’d just wanted some damn privacy for one damn minute. Instead, as the elevator deposited them on the appropriate floor he sighed and confessed, “I have a date.”

Sam choked on his own tongue as they walked into their common kitchen area. “Excuse me, what?”

“Barnes?” 

That was Natasha, regarding him with her sharp eyes. They all piled into chairs along a bar, where food had been laid out for them already. Tony was either still sleeping, or down in a lab somewhere inventing the next best thing in robotics. 

“How did you…” Steve started, then changed his mind. Spies. Couldn’t live with ‘em, couldn’t shoot ‘em. Literally. They were pretty hard to keep in your sights long enough. He picked up a plate and started piling on scrambled eggs. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Which one is Barnes?” Sam persisted, snagging the bacon first. 

Clint piped up helpfully, “Sniper from the 107th.”

“The one with the nice ass,” Natasha added, even more helpfully. 

As Steve set down the eggs and went for the hash browns he couldn’t help agreeing with her internally, but didn’t feel inclined to say so. 

Sam’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. “You know, most people would give me hair color, or big shnoz, something I could work with. What am I supposed to do with _nice ass_? You really think I know what his ass looks like?”

“Steve does,” Clint stated matter-of-factly, pouring syrup over a mound of pancakes, and Steve made a choking sound of his own. How did Clint know anything about that? He hadn’t told _anyone_ he’d been staring at Bucky’s ass for weeks, not even Sam. 

“What?”

A devious smile had spread across Clint’s face. “At least, I’m assuming so after last night.”

Steve felt his cheeks redden. “What about last night?” he asked nervously. 

Clint put about half a pancake into his mouth and chewed around it. “Oh, nothing really,” he mumbled and swallowed his food down, stabbing his fork in Steve’s direction. “It’s just that after midnight, me and Nat were playing foosball in the rec room and Jarvis asked us if we should be concerned about you.”

Steve dropped his fork. “Wh…why would he…” he stuttered out.

Clint’s smile widened. “It seemed your heart rate, along with the ambient temperature in your bedroom, had never been higher. I thought you were probably just taking care of business yourself and told Jarvis to chill. Almost fell over when he said you weren’t _alone_.”

Sam started laughing so hard, the OJ he was pouring into a glass spilled over onto the counter. “Jarvis, you are the _best_!” he sang into the air.

Jarvis’s clipped tones then sounded from above. “My apologies, Captain, I did not intend to intrude upon your privacy. I was merely concerned for your safety.”

“I think he was worried you might be undergoing some form of torture.” If Clint’s grin was any bigger, his face would split open. 

Steve closed his eyes and wished a hole would open up in the time-space continuum and swallow him completely. “Jarvis, why didn’t you just ask me?” he pleaded, head turned up to the ceiling.

“You had turned communications off, sir,” was Jarvis’s gentle response, and Sam hummed a few bars of stereotypical strip-tease music, mopping up his drink with a handful of napkins. 

Oh, right. Steve’s ears burned like they were on fire. When he’d closed the window blinds in his bedroom, he also switched off communications, which meant he didn’t want to be disturbed unless there was an emergency. 

Nat broke in at this point to save him. “We told Jarvis everything was fine, Steve, and that was the end of it.” She smacked Clint in the back of the head. “Stop being so juvenile.”

“But…” Clint whined, and fell silent when Nat raised her hand again. 

Chortling, Sam leaned over the counter and threw away his pile of soggy napkins. “Congrats, Cap, for gettin’ lucky. ‘Bout freakin’ time.”

Steve’s shoulders hunched. “Shut up, Sam,” he had moaned. 

But the ribbing was worth it. 

That had happened three months ago, and he and Bucky had been seeing each other regularly since then. Until a mission had kept Steve away from New York for the last two weeks, anyway. They just got back and he currently was on his bike on the way over to Bay Ridge, anticipation making him tingle everywhere. Two weeks, and he missed Bucky more than he could say. 

Pulling up into the driveway, he parks his bike and hops off. Bucky lived off-base but close to Fort Hamilton, where he was stationed now. As he moves to the front door Steve reflects on the irony of the situation. Originally Bucky was part of the 10th Mountain Division from upstate, but after the invasion of New York his battalion was moved here. If not for that, they would never have met… at least _something_ good came out of that awful situation. And while Steve had been generally in favor of the cross-training exercises with Bucky’s units, because it didn’t ever hurt to be extra prepared, now he thought it was the best idea in the history of ideas, because Bucky!

It takes a minute after he rings the doorbell of Bucky’s neat two story, shuttered and shingled townhouse, but the door then opens and he is bear-hugged, right out there on the stoop. Bucky’s nose presses against the side of his neck and he murmurs sweetly into his skin, “God, I’m glad you’re back.”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s back and squeezes tightly, closing his eyes and breathing him in. He smells freshly showered; they’ve been around each other enough for Steve to recognize the scent of his soap. It feels so good to have him in his arms again, they stand there motionless for a minute before he answers back, “Good to be back.”

Breaking away, the brunet then pulls him inside and shuts the door. Steve shucks his leather jacket and hangs it on the mirrored hall tree that sits in the entryway. Bucky starts to walk further into his home, creaking as he steps across the wood floor; he expects his guest to follow but stops when Steve teases, “Two weeks away and I don’t even get a kiss?”

Smiling, Bucky walks back to him. “Of course you do.” He leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek, then smiles and backs away. 

Steve stands there with his mouth hanging open. “You call that a kiss?” 

Bucky is teasing him and he knows it. There is a merry grin on his face as he states, “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

True, but Steve kinda had his heart set on _now_. Well, his heart and another organ further south that’s growing more and more interested as he stands and takes in Bucky’s appearance. Jeans that conform perfectly to the bulging muscles of his thighs and butt, and a tee that is stretched tautly over his shapely chest and biceps. He looks _delicious_.

“Later,” Steve harps, “What about now?” 

He tries to grab Bucky by the waist and ends up grappling with him, as Bucky laughs and tries to keep him at arm’s length, catching him by the hands and gripping them firmly. Slowly Steve walks them backward, down the hallway leading to the master bedroom. 

“You haven’t even had dinner yet!” Bucky protests, letting go of his hands and pressing his into Steve’s shoulders, arms extended.

“I don’t want dinner, I want you,” Steve replies, finally getting his arms around Bucky’s hips. He wants to feel every part of that hard body against every part of his own. Why is he playing hard to get? 

“But what if I cooked you something?” Bucky says coyly, and Steve stops in his tracks, worried. What if Bucky made him a candlelight dinner, and Steve is _ruining_ it?

“Did you?” he gasps out, suddenly horrified, but Bucky just laughs airily. 

“No,” he teases, “But I _could_ have.”

“Oh, well then,” Steve replies, relieved, and starts moving them again, backwards towards the door to Bucky’s bedroom. He catches sight of it behind them and does a double take. 

“Your door is shut,” he says suspiciously. “Your door is never shut. Why is your door shut?” 

Bucky is giving him an innocent look that Steve doesn’t buy for a moment. “Maybe I forgot to make the bed,” he claims, and they bump into the door, lightly coming to rest up against it.

“What does that matter?” Steve crowds him up against the wood panel and noses along his sharp jawline. “We’re just going to mess it up, anyway.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Bucky’s hands slide up his back, in contrast to his words. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you, Rogers.” 

“It is?” Steve pulls his head back in surprise. No, they don’t have sex _every_ time they see each other, but they’ve been having a _lot_ of it in general, and he’s been gone a solid two weeks! Before he can enunciate his disbelief in more detail, Bucky reaches down for the doorknob and turns it. 

The door opens, they spill into the room, and Steve’s surprise grows tenfold. The shades are pulled down and the space is dark but for the dozens of candles placed around the perimeter, on every level surface available. All sizes, from big pillar candles, the kind with three or four wicks at the center, down to little tea lights. They all burn softly, the gentle yellow glow flickering on the walls, and it’s maybe the most romantic thing anyone’s done for him. 

“Buck,” he breathes softly, and takes his hand.

“Welcome home,” Bucky purrs, pressing up against him and kissing his cheek. It’s not just a peck though, not this time. It’s slow and purposeful, speaking of many intimacies to come, and as soon as Bucky’s lips leave his cheek they find his mouth. That kiss is deep and heated, with no more preamble, no more delaying tactics. 

It’s slow and mouth-watering, and they move against each other with all the familiarity of two people who have been intimate for a while. Bucky’s hands find the bottom edge of Steve’s shirt and pull upward to remove it. They break apart for removal of Steve’s shirt and then Bucky’s, but Steve has to sit down on the edge of the bed to get his boots off. 

Already shoeless, Bucky shimmies out of his remaining clothes and then straddles him. Steve has managed to get his boots and socks off but nothing else yet. He chuckles softly as Bucky forces him down onto his back and pushes his arms up over his head, covering his body with his own and devouring him with another kiss. 

His weight settles into Steve’s body with divine ease, knees on either side of his hips. He rubs his growing erection right over Steve’s stomach and rains kisses down the side of his jaw and neck, drawing a happy groan from the blond. 

“Miss me?” Steve rasps. 

He wants to grab and touch and use his hands to fondle the enticing body on top of his, but Bucky keeps his wrists tethered above his head. His head nods and he licks at the hollow at the base of Steve’s throat. 

“Fuck yeah I missed you,” he murmurs. “Want me to show you how much?”

“Yes please,” Steve says roughly and rolls his hips in invitation.

A crafty smile appears on Bucky’s face. “Well then,” he drawls and looks down in the direction of Steve’s jeans, “Those have to disappear.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” Steve sounds off smartly, and is surprised to see Bucky’s eyes dilate, growing darker in the flickering candlelight.

“Ohhhh,” he breathes, “I like that. Say it again.” He presses his hips down harder into Steve’s midsection, the tip of his shaft already wet. 

Steve can’t help smiling. “You like giving me orders, baby?”

Bucky kisses his mouth, hard and fast, before pulling back to look into his eyes again. “I like giving you _everything_.”

The way that word rolled off Bucky’s tongue makes boiling-hot blood race through Steve’s body. He pushes upward and flips them both, reversing their positions, trapping Bucky below him with his hands over his head and one knee between his legs. 

“Then what are your _orders_ , sir?”

“Strip.”

Bucky’s eyes are dark and eager, and Steve would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on even more. “At once, sir,” he says obligingly, and pushes himself back, propelling himself to his feet so he can comply. Bucky takes the opportunity to fish into a bedside table drawer for lube, setting it down on the bed next to him, all the while watching Steve like a predator stalking his prey. As he gets comfortable on his back again and props himself up on his elbows, Steve makes short work of his remaining clothing.

“Gimme your shirt.”

Steve looks up but doesn’t question it; he just picks his shirt up from the floor and tosses it to his partner, who in turn throws it up towards the head of the bed. Steve slides over the edge, crawling up Bucky’s body and resuming his position on top.

Bucky reaches up and takes Steve’s jaw gently in one hand, thumb brushing over his cheek, and brings Steve’s mouth to his for a leisurely kiss. That same hand runs down Steve’s hard pecs, rubbing over first one and then the other. His fingertips trace little circles around one nipple, and it gives Steve goose bumps. He moans softly into Bucky’s mouth because damn, are his nipples sensitive to touch. As luck would have it, two can play at that game. 

Leaning down, he kisses the center of Bucky’s chest and then lets his mouth drag across the firm, smooth skin, ghosting over it with his lips till he reaches one nipple. There he pauses to lick at it, tracing little circles around and over, till it hardens under his touch. Bucky whines once and falls to his back, sinking one hand into the hair at the back of Steve’s head and grasping at his broad back with the other.

Steve’s hands are busy as well, moving up Bucky’s sides, down over his hard abdominals, around his hips, exploring him in all the ways he fantasized about while he was gone. Bucky’s hips were made for sin. In fact, his entire body just drives Steve wild, no two ways about it. He could stay in his bed with him for days and be perfectly content. 

“I love the way you taste,” he tells him, licking his lips and meaning every word. 

Bucky groans wantonly and tightens his grip in Steve’s hair. As his blond head moves from one nipple to the other, tongue lavishing attention on a new target, one hand slips down over Bucky’s pelvis to wrap around the base of his cock. 

That draws a heavier groan from his partner, but instead of immediately stroking him, Steve curls his fingers around Bucky’s shaft and rubs his thumb across the head in more of a teasing action. He releases the tightened nipple from his mouth, noses at Bucky’s throat and asks in an expectant voice, “Now what?”

Whatever answer comes out of Bucky’s mouth, he’ll be down with; he doesn’t mind Bucky taking charge in the bedroom. Whatever his deepest desires are, he wants to know; most of all, he wants to be the one to fulfill those desires. He wants to be the one to make Bucky moan and shiver and call out his name when he comes. 

So when Bucky responds, “Use your mouth, baby,” Steve doesn’t hesitate to drop down between his spread legs and grab him by the hip with one hand to steady him while keeping the other hand on his erection. His mouth follows, running up one side and down the next, and he’s the one who moans this time, a ragged, filthy sound. 

It’s been too long since he’s had Bucky’s cock in his mouth. He swallows it down smoothly, tightening his wet lips around it. He loves the way it feels inside his mouth, thick and heavy as he strokes against it with his tongue. More soft moans fall from Bucky’s lips, which just eggs Steve on. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, long and hard, and feels his own cock leaking and throbbing. It’s all too easy to bring himself to the edge of an orgasm as he brings Bucky there, too, but his lover won’t let things get that far. After a minute of Steve sucking him down and rhythmically pulling back off, Bucky is gasping for breath.

“Oh God, baby, stop. I’m too close…” he announces desperately.

Steve fails to see why this is a problem, but he stops nonetheless and pulls off wetly, smacking his lips once before coming back up to see what Bucky’s plans are next. 

“Get on your knees.”

Eyes widening, Steve’s mouth forms a little “oh”. His arousal level spikes when he thinks of Bucky getting behind him and touching him there. There is a little push against his sternum that serves as a signal to move, so he follow orders obediently. That means climbing further up onto the bed and assuming a position on his hands and knees in the middle of it. He grabs a pillow to rest his head on and looks back expectantly. 

Bucky has flipped himself over and is waiting, also on his knees. His cock is rock hard, standing tall between his legs and he tips his head, regarding Steve in all his naked glory. 

“Damn, you’re so hot,” he asserts, shaking his head and scooting in closer. 

Steve just grins, and then sucks in a breath when Bucky’s warm hands touch his backside, gliding over the cheeks of his ass to pull them apart. Hot tongue follows, sweeping in over his hole, and it makes Steve both sigh and moan greedily at the same time. When Bucky eats him out it’s like nothing else he’s ever experienced. It’s like Bucky knows exactly how to move, how to take him apart piece by piece, until he’s just a quivering, babbling mess. 

Dropping to his elbows, Steve fists the pillow in front of him and closes his eyes. Bucky’s tongue laps at him over and over, his face buried but quiet noises still bleeding out of him too, little moans and whines of delight. Those noises might be what Steve likes the best, because Bucky makes it truly sound like he’s on the receiving end of all the pleasure, instead of Steve.

But it’s really Steve who’s benefiting here, at least in his opinion. Every nerve ending in his body is on high alert as waves of pleasure roll over him. Bucky’s fingers are digging into the muscles of his butt, his tongue marking delicious little circles over him, and Steve couldn’t stay quiet if his life depended on it. 

“Ohhhhh Buck!” he groans. “Jesus, _yes_.”

Bucky stops momentarily, just enough to growl out another command. “Jack off for me.”

Reaching down with one hand, Steve fists his own cock, but as soon as he does so, he knows he won’t last long, and he doesn’t want to make a giant mess all over the bed. “But…” he starts to say, and Bucky cuts him off. 

“Use your shirt.”

The shirt. Bucky tossed it up here somewhere, in his wisdom, or his horniness, depending on how you looked at it. Turning his head the other way, Steve sees it in a crumpled ball further up. Bucky has already gone back to using his mouth in a more productive way, his talented tongue probing him again, so Steve tightens his grip on his massive erection and strokes himself.

Immediately more words fall from his lips, though he hasn’t really got any idea what he says. Various iterations of euphoric pleasure, he’s pretty sure. Bucky’s tongue leaves him but is replaced very quickly by slightly cold fingers, freshly lubed up. The cold isn’t so bad, though, because his cock feels like it’s on fire, pulsing relentlessly. 

With one finger searching for his spot, Steve is penetrated slowly. When Bucky finds that special spot, Steve’s back arches and he pushes back, wanting more. Speeding up his own strokes, it only takes a few before that shirt becomes necessary. Problem is, he’s got one hand on his cock and has the other arm propped underneath him to support his weight. _Figure it out, Rogers._ Resting his face on the pillow in undignified but pragmatic fashion, he darts out with his hand to grab the shirt, fortunately coming up with it on the first try. It goes down to block the release that comes a split second later, accompanied by lots of groaning and a few full body shudders. 

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. Come for me,” Bucky encourages him, sliding in another finger. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”

He stimulates Steve and stretches him at the same time, letting him ride out his orgasm. Sated and happy, Steve’s breathing slows and his body relaxes. When Bucky thinks he’s ready he snugs his body right up behind him, draping his back over the top of Steve’s. Dragging his cock up through the valley between his cheeks, at the same time he kisses his neck and shoulder, he puts his mouth next to Steve’s ear. 

“God, I want inside you,” he murmurs, thrusting his slicked up cock right against his entrance. 

“Then fuck me already,” Steve responds, looking back at him. It’s not exactly pleading, not exactly demanding. More of a declaration of the easiest and most obvious solution to their current predicament. 

It brings forth a chuckle and an intoned, “I’m gettin’ to that part,” from the man who will not be rushed. 

After what seems an interminable wait to Steve, which consists mostly of Bucky rubbing up and down against him like a cat asking for pets, he finally breaches him. It’s slow, so slow Steve wants to either cross his eyes in frustration, or scream in ecstasy, he can’t decide which. In compromise, a long, shaky sigh runs through him and he leans back, trying to force Bucky’s hand (so to speak). 

Warm hands run up his back and still his movement. “Not so fast, baby,” Bucky says, sounding amused. 

“Buck, come on,” is Steve’s impatient reply. 

He wants more, more than this maddeningly slow entrance. Bucky’s thick, hard length feels great as it penetrates him inch by inch, but he needs all of it, _now_. He groans when Bucky grasps his hips and pulls, burying himself completely. _Finally._ A soft “oh” comes out of Bucky’s mouth and he starts to pull back out, but it’s still so freaking _slow_. 

Bucky pulls out halfway and then rolls his hips languidly, like he’s deliberately avoiding moving too fast so he can prolong the trip toward the inevitable. Luckily for Steve, he already shot his load in a remarkably hot orgasm, so the pressure’s off. Bucky’s still holding on, still trying to wring out that last bit of pleasure before he succumbs. 

How he can stand it, Steve has no clue, because if their positions were reversed, he suspects he would be pounding into Bucky’s backside like no tomorrow. Instead Bucky savors it, thrusting in and out at such a snail’s pace he’s hardly moving at all. 

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” he exclaims, “You feel so good. God, you’re so tight.”

And all the while, he’s pumping in and out, his rock-hard cock sliding in and out of Steve’s passage. When he pings against Steve’s prostate, Steve sees stars and yowls out a few appreciative words of his own. His face is in the pillow, his ass in the air, his boyfriend plastered to him, and it’s sensational. There’s no better welcome home than this. 

Finally, when Steve is ready to literally start begging, Bucky speeds up to a pace he approves of. A pace that includes long, deep strokes that batter him and shift his whole body forward and back with the force of them. A pace that provokes satisfied grunts from both men, and soaring temperatures. Bucky has a grip on both of his shoulders as he pounds into him, and Steve can feel him start to sweat. He himself feels feverishly hot and ready to explode. 

It’s glorious. Steve’s cock thinks so, at any rate, because he’s working on his second erection of the night already; it rises steadily until it stands tall, flush with his belly and thick with excitement. Every time Bucky presses up against him and fills him up it feels amazing, but after being gone and not having any contact with him at all for a while, this time it’s extra special.

Steve moans out his elation, turning his head to the side so Bucky can hear it, knowing how much those sounds turn him on, how much he loves to hear Steve come unglued. His fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he ruts against him savagely.

“Fuck yeah, baby, let me hear you,” he wheezes appreciatively. “Gonna come so hard,” he promises, and Bucky always keeps those promises. 

He shifts his position, kneeling more upright and sliding his hands down Steve’s back till he reaches his hip bones. There he grabs on tightly and doesn’t let go, grinding against him hard and fast. Steve’s breath comes in short, panting gasps, in between each push. He has to feel around underneath him for the shirt he dropped, because he’s gonna need it again in a minute. 

Bucky is fully sheathed inside him, filling him completely, when he comes with a short shout and a longer, passionate groan. The tension inside Steve’s body increases until it’s like an earthquake, a deep build-up of energy that needs to be released. Just after Bucky’s movement slows, Steve hits his peak, the heat spreading and making his muscles tense until he comes, frozen in place, with a gasp and a sigh of relaxed exultation. 

Once Steve has no further use for his torched shirt, Bucky takes it from him and uses a still-clean spot to clean him up even more, then hops off the bed and returns with a warm, damp towel to finish up. Steve hadn’t even bothered to move. When Bucky touches him again it’s sweet and soft, so caring it warms his heart. He disappears once more into the bathroom to dispose of the towel and shirt, then appears at Steve’s side after he’s collapsed down onto the bed.

“I liked that shirt,” Steve jokes dreamily, and Bucky laughs as he drops down next to him on his side.

“I liked that shirt more when it was off of you,” he replies and then adds, “Never fear, I’ll wash it for you tomorrow.”

“What am I going to wear home?”

“Your shield?” Bucky jokes, grinning broadly, inching closer to Steve, who slides one hand down over his hip to pull him in.

Bucky now has a hungry look on his face, but picturing himself on his motorcycle, shirtless and with his shield on his back makes Steve laugh. “My God, if Tony saw that…”

“If _anyone_ saw that, I’d have to fight them off of you,” Bucky interrupts fiercely, and rolls himself on top of Steve, kissing him heatedly. “Forget that idea, you can borrow one of mine.” 

“I think you exaggerate, but thank you.” Steve runs his hands up Bucky’s wide back and then down over his curvy ass, his smooth skin both inviting and tempting. A spark of heat and need ignites low in his belly and threatens to catch.

“I exaggerate nothing,” Bucky returns confidently. His eyes close and his lips part when Steve’s fingers tease into the cleft between his cheeks. “And we might need that shirt again.”


End file.
